Randomness of the Nice-overse! A Collection of Bleached Cracky Tales
by Spider Milkshake
Summary: Alternate universes are weird. In some, those who you would be sure are completely respectful and self-controlled lads and lasses are actually quite... rape-y... In others, the kind-hearted are nasty and the nasty are nice and give money to charities for puppies with cancer. AU, OCs (none of great importance). And full descriptions of an undisguised Aaroniero (squeamish alert!).
1. Everyone Has Their Weaknesses

**Randomness of the Nice-overse!**

**A Collection of Bleached Cracky Tales:**

* * *

Alternate universes are weird.

In some, those who you would be sure are completely respectful and self-controlled lads and lasses are actually quite... rape-y...

In others, the kind-hearted are nasty and the nasty are nice and give money to charities for puppies with cancer. There's even one particular mind-f%*$ingly confusing one where Head Captain Kenpachi Unohana had made peace with the Arrancar Lord Arturo Plateado in the year 304 A.D. and there hadn't been any wars between the two societies since. And then there was that one where all the Arrancar were Soul Reapers and all the Soul Reapers were Arrancar. Oh, and there were over five hundred thousand Quincys still living.

Thankfully for any inter-dimensional travelers from the universe we are all familiar with, this particular alternate one is decidedly less different from ours. Some people are kinder or harsher, others who were once calm and passive are loud and aggressive, or vice versa. But there's no gender-bending, no age-swapping, no ancient event that completely rewrote history as we know it. The only thing that comes close is Sosuke Aizen's slight alteration to his Soul Reaper-y-ness...

He isn't one at all here-_-_an Arrancar instead. Former Espada, actually, once a Quinta before he was replaced by Nnoitora Gilga (which turned out to be a set-up... Nnoitora was in on it along with Neliel Tu Oderschvank...). But, obviously, still the same cunning and vile bastard we all love to hate...

Others, however, are changed in more subtle ways. Some for the worse, and others for the better...

* * *

Chapter 1:

Everyone Has Their Weaknesses...

* * *

The Novena was one such Arrancar who was only slightly... yet profoundly different than his canonical counterpart. Were you to meet him in the universe you know, then it would be time to run. Or perhaps to soil yourself to make you less delicious. Not so here... Though there were some obvious similarities...

_Gnomnomnomnamunchnomnnoshnom nomnom..._

What looked like the deceased Kaien Shiba in a Soldado white-and-black uniform leaned nonchalantly against a table bearing a large spread. However, he was not Kaien, nor was he simply loitering by all the tempting food...

From one side it seemed that way... But from the other, it was clear he had his left arm hidden behind his back and poking around at the food. A limp glove hung from his other hand, and he peeked around warily for any watchers that might be witnessing the disturbing binge.

The Novena's left hand... was not a hand...

It was a mouth, surrounded by slimy tentacles. Which was currently devouring every thing on every platter that it bumped into. Problematic in that occasionally he attempted to eat a fork or a ladle.

"Ack..." Aaroniero's false face choked a bit simultaneously with his real mouth. He snuck a glance behind him to see what inedible thing his mutated mouth had accidentally engulfed this time. It was another fork.

Wincing, the Espada picked the silverware from his unique appendage with his normal hand and hid it discreetly under the rim of an already emptied platter. A servant neared!

Aaroniero straightened, desperate to not lock eyes with the woman. Was she looking? Did she sniff in disgust just then because she'd spotted his left...arm? Was she walking away with that dishrag because he'd freaked her out? So often were his questions unanswered! The possibility of a witness to his unfortunate nastiness... the stress...

Hmm... _**Stress...**_

"Oh, please let there be a cheesecake..." he whimpered, leaning back a little further and reaching with his tentacled maw to a new grazing area.

_Noshnommnommnarmnomnoshnamyu mmnoshyammyumm..._

There, that was better. That relieved his stress somewhat. The Novena's borrowed face grinned indulgently; he had found the cheesecake. It had strawberries and everything! He was so immersed in gorging himself that he didn't even notice the light footsteps stopping just a few feet away.

"Umm... Aaroniero?"

The feverish munching ground to a halt and Aaroniero froze. Looking over slowly, he couldn't help but unleash a nervous giggle.

"Y-yeah..?" he stammered a bit upon seeing who it was that had noticed his odd behavior. Octava Szayel Aporro Grantz. The Arrancar scientist had a puzzled look on his normally benignly smiling face, his hands clasped behind his back.

"...Are you going to eat _all _of that?"

"... No." Aaroniero drooped his head guiltily as he slid his mouthed arm away from the remaining foodstuffs. Slipping his concealing glove back on, he took a moment to squirm his tentacles back into the rough shape of a human hand, "Well... Maybe..."

Szayel eyed the furtive movements and crossed his arms across his slight chest. His head was shaking in a disapproving way, and Aaroniero shuffled.

"Aaroniero," he said, arching one eyebrow. "Why are you hiding your weird?"

The Novena was helplessly silent, lacing and unlacing his gloved fingers (and "fingers") together. The discussion had been had before. Aaroniero still did not find it comfortable.

"Hunhhh..." Szayel sighed, wandering to the table side (and its fare intended for a great deal more people than just Aaroniero) and picking up an oer'derve, "You know better than to hide your uniqueness, least of all to me. There's no judgment on you here-_-_we're all at least some degree of strange."

"Okay... but..." Aaroniero's words caught in his throat, "The last time I, er... was myself... I scared the orphans..."

"No wonder! They're children, Aaroniero, in mind as well as body. Children don't know better than to recoil in fear from one who looks different than them..." Szayel popped the oer'derve into his mouth, "Mmf! What are these..? Some kind of cheese-filled somesuch..?"

"Yeah... Ricotta and Parmesan..." Aaroniero's eyes were riveted on the plate holding the rest of the morsels. Szayel blinked several times, noticing this.

"...Haven't you had enough already?" Szayel selected another of the cheesy snacks, "Or are you still hungry?"

He extended the hand with the small dumpling thing held pinched in it. Aaroniero stared, trying to keep his hidden jaws from oozing onto his glove too heavily. He hesitated, spotting the movements of various civilians and servant-class Fracciónes in his periphery.

"But, erm..." The Novena withdrew his left arm, sticking it firmly behind his back and clasping it tightly with his right hand to restrain it, "There's... people watching over there..."

"Oh, come off it!"

"But they'll see..."

"So what? What does it matter that they know? I..." Szayel paused, tapping the side of his glasses-like mask fragment matter-of-factly, "...Have seen much _much _worse predicaments than your current arrangement."

"...You're lying to make me feel better..."

"No, I am not. I'm _this close _to breaking confidentiality agreements with several of my patients..." The Octava gulped down the oer'derve that was taking up the use of his index finger and thumb, and then held them millimeters apart from each other, "Now, trust me... It won't be that bad. Maybe a little extra attention for a few moments, then they'll forget all about the Espada that happens to have their mouth on their hand_-_-"

"Gkk...shhh..!" Aaroniero flinched as Szayel's volume rose. The passel of female Arrancar that had just passed them glanced over for a second, but did not seem to have been paying attention to what the pink-haired Octava had been saying. Szayel chuckled deep in his throat to himself and re-crossed his arms.

"Now see there? They barely even payed attention to the thing you're so terrified of revealing..." Szayel leaned back on the table, "They more stared at your... Exaggerated reaction."

"But..." Aaroniero was confronted with a look of sheer confident determination on the face of his fellow Espada. He sighed in defeat, hanging both his arms and turning to the plate of cheesy thingies, "...Okay, fine. Just this once... And if they... freak out..."

"The ones that matter won't." Szayel's statement was coupled with a triumphant smirk. Aaroniero was not so sure, though arguing more was pointless. Szayel had been an Espada a few more decades longer than he had, and the seniority the scientist felt was almost palpable.

"Whatever you say..." Aaroniero unsheathed his Glotonería, his only means of feeding himself. The gaping circular hole, lined with row upon row of large horrendous teeth, was shiny with saliva and visible slime even though the Novena was doing all he could with the surrounding tentacles to conceal the nastiest part of the appendage. Grimacing, he plucked up one of the oer'derves and crammed it hastily into the eager hole.

"Ah...AIEEEE!"

One of the women that had passed just a few moments before had chosen this moment to run back to the refreshment table for a drink refill. And, her timing be damned, she had blundered right into..._ that_.

Aaroniero jumped in alarm at the sound, instinctively fumbling for the long glove on the table side. The female Arrancar stood stock-still, mouth gaping and one hand trembling in a half-formed pointing gesture. Szayel slapped his face in his palm and stepped slightly in front of what had so shocked her. Of all the people to ruin his attempt to pep up the awkward Novena... It would have to be one of the new generation of Arrancar: Not even ten or so years as one of the spiritual beings... And definitely not fully versed in Arrancar lore and etiquette yet.

"Ma'am, calm yourself," he said, giving her a soft glare of warning. "Why are you screaming..? There's no threat in here. Are you perhaps ill or over-stressed today..?"

"Umm...uhh..." The woman shook her head as if to clear it, still trying to peer past the Octava's figure to glimpse once more the weird left arm of the Novena, "I, um, sorry, I... I wasn't ready to see... such a... a, uh..."

"A what?" Szayel leaned in closer to her, one eyebrow raised quizzically but his eyes made completely out of accusation, "Were you not familiar with the physical appearance of your Novena Espada?"

"Oh, no... Szayel, please..." Aaroniero had finally gotten his glove back on. He had moved to hide slightly more behind the eccentric scientist, but poked his head out to try and un-sicc the Octava from the ignorant young woman.

"Ah, ah, ah_-_-let me handle it." Szayel thrust up a dramatic hand, silencing the Novena's squeamish protests, "Disrespect to an Espada, no matter how new an Espada, must be rectified in due course. Now, ma'am, your name?"

"Aimee," she whimpered, having little knowledge to draw on about the nature of the "rectification" to which the Octava was referring. "Aimee F-Folcatta..."

"Aimee Folcatta!" Szayel thumped one soft-soled shoe on the floor slightly, standing to his full height and looking down on her officiously, "Do you concede that your behavior has caused the Novena upset and generally disrespected his peace?"

"Yes, sir..."

"So... Apologize to him." Szayel stepped aside before Aaroniero could stop him, leaving him exposed and face-to-face with the quivering girl.

"Ah, umm..." The Novena tried to stand up straighter, feeling all the eyes prying in his direction. At least sunlight didn't get into this room during the day. He didn't think he could bear it to have them all staring at his real face(s), "Ah, it's okay, really. I... I don't really mind..."

Aaroniero was forced to shush due to Szayel's foot coming down slightly hard on the back of his foot. The Octava shot a look to Aimee, indicating that she should continue with her apology.

"My Lord." She shakily dropped to one knee, then both knees as she lowered herself even further, "I'm d-deeply sorry for upsetting you. I-I didn't intend to react to your... your..."

She was not able to make the rest of her plea known, however. The Novena had had enough, flitting away from the table side and out of reach of the overseeing Octava, heading towards the corridor out of this main hall before either party could respond. Szayel opened his mouth to call after him, but it was no use. Aaroniero was well out of sight by now, his Sonído slower than the scientist's but nothing to sneeze at either. With a sigh, the Octava dismissed Aimee with a tap on her shoulder, muttering reassurances that the fleeing Espada was not angry with her or leaving due to anything she had done.

* * *

"Lord Arulerie... Lord Arulerie, are you alright in there?"

"Go away!"

Aaroniero was holed up like a rabbit pursued by hounds. Except that instead of the hounds wanting to tear the bunny to bits and eat it, these "hounds" were merely trying to get him to show his face. Which ever one he chose to show them.

The mirror in his bathroom was like the ones in the other Espada's quarters: Dramatically large, a long shimmery rectangle. When he looked up again from his perch on the (closed) toilet he saw Kaien Shiba. It wasn't real, but it was presentable. It was such a shame his disguise wouldn't work in the sun. Other lights wouldn't interfere, but the sun always burned it off like biting acid.

"Stupid sun..." he growled to himself into his knees. His Fracciónes were probably still loitering around in his quarters, waiting on him to calm down and come back out. They might be waiting a long time.

"My Lord..?" It was Tollefson, he could tell from the gruff voice, always sounding as if he was dubious about anything he encountered. This time, the inflection was appropriate, "Sir, when do you think you're coming out? It's getting late..."

"I'll come out when I come out!" Aaroniero turned away from the locked door, "Now go away!"

"Lord Arulerie." It was a different Fracción, one of the Soldado class named Vánesse. He sounded out of breath, "Sorry to disturb you, sir... But I've been alerted to the fact that there is to be a Meeting of Espadas in one hour."

There was a pause. Aaroniero could hear the panting breaths of Vánesse and the nervous shuffling of at least three other Arrancar standing outside. Along with his own uncontrolled huffs.

"Sir... Are you going to attend?"

"I don't know!" The Espada was losing patience with them, forgetting that their only reason for badgering him was a concern for his well-being. An unintentional boost of spiritual power provoked a few startled grunts and half-choked squeals from a few of the huddled Fracciónes, "Just leave me alone!"

The shuffling continued for a moment, then gradually began to fade. In the distance, lowered voices were audible as Vánesse held a hurried conference with the servants, then there was a sound of the door to his quarters clicking shut. Aaroniero relaxed and let his legs slip from their bunched position against his chest. They had finally obeyed his orders, left him alone. He brought his head back up, and once again the mirror told him what he wanted to see. Kaien's face reflected back at him, looking critical even though Aaroniero was in control of the expression it held.

"What'd I do to deserve this?" He asked his reflection. Of course, there was no response, only Kaien's face lip-syncing whatever Aaroniero chose to say. Before he was sure where Nejibana, the "extra zanpakuto", or this Soul Reaper's visage had come from he often wondered if there was some other soul, another consciousness, occupying this body. But no, there was no one else. It was just him, alone, with his two mutant faces and disgusting left arm. He barely even passed as a human Arrancar.

Flinching, Aaroniero let his false face come away, dispersing in a cloud of reddish-violet mist. Now the mirror showed him his true appearance:

It was nothing like the one he showed to the world when the sun was hidden or muted. In place of the expressive brown eyes were two pairs of sunken, pale yellow ones. Both heads bobbed in a viscous translucent fluid reminiscent of dilute blood, the mouths thin-lipped and full of crooked teeth. At least, that was where the grotesque fragments of rutted and bone-like mask did not cover. And all this was contained within the tough container of clear mystery material that had several times earned him the nickname of "Buckethead".

"_I'm so ugly_..." the lower head spoke, its voice now a high squeak like that of a choked-up child.

"**Why am I like this?**" The upper head's voice was low and grumbling, at least three times deeper than that of the head below it, "**Can I even call... this... an Arrancar?**"

Aaroniero sighed with both voices, hanging his head slightly so that he could not longer see the reflection of his true faces.

"_Maybe when I turned... Something messed up. Maybe I'm stuck as a part-Hollow_..." Again, his voice was a plaintive whine.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Aaroniero!"

The Novena jumped and scrambled to reach his false mask bit that he often wore over top of his true appearance when the sun was out. The voice outside the door belonged to Szayel Aporro.

"You're either a Hollow or not a Hollow. You can_ not _be halfway!"

"**I thought I told everyone I **_**wanted to be left alone**_."

"You may _want_ to be left alone, but you _need_ to talk to someone." The firmness of the Octava's voice shook Aaroniero's temper a bit, knocking him out of his repellant mood, "It's basic psychology."

"_I don't wanna talk. _**I just want to be alone for a bit**..."

"Aaroniero, listen to me," Szayel sounded as if he were projecting his voice straight through the keyhole; it reverberated all around the white stone that made up the walls with a ferocity that further quailed the Novena's foul mood. "You are an Espada. You are the Novena. People here in Las Noches look up to you and respect your strength. There are hundreds of weaker warriors who would love to be you. You have three dozen Fracciónes who would do anything you asked them. The other Espadas look to you as an equal, someone who can aid in the struggle to keep our people safe from the threats we have looming over us! No matter what you look like, you are revered here! Perhaps even loved! What's important here is not what Aaroniero Arulerie the Novena Espada looks like, but that he is our Novena. And hear this before you say anything else so utterly self-loathing-_-_we don't care what your faces look like, _we care about you_."

Aaroniero stared at the door with all four eyes blinking in their turn. He had never heard Szayel have his voice raised for quite this long. He felt verbally slapped in the faces, the only way to actually slap his faces.

"...So, Aaroniero... Are we clear?"

The door creaked as Aaroniero pushed it open a few inches. There were a few seconds of pause where a small squelching sound echoed through the room, then the Espada stepped out. Kaien's face had returned, concealing the Novena's true appearance. Szayel smiled slightly, shaking his head still.

"Well, this is something at least," he said, adjusting some of his bangs. "Now, come. There's a meeting in one hour, did you hear? If we're going to walk there, we'll have to leave now..."

Szayel's rambling trailed off in a muffled yelp as the Novena's arms wrapped around him suddenly. Trapped in a bear-like hug, the Octava grunted as he extricated one of his arms and gave Aaroniero's back a weak pat.

"What's... all this, my friend?" The Octava blinked, making certain that the other Espada's strong grip did not cut off his air supply unintentionally. Aaroniero didn't say anything for a long while, burrowing his false head into the slightly shorter man's shoulder.

"You all really... give a crap about Aaroniero..?" Szayel made out the words from where the Novena's face was buried in his shirt. With a sigh, the Octava returned the hug with a great deal less gusto and gave the strange Arrancar another gentle pat on the back.

"Yes, we do. We give a great deal more than a crap about you."

Aaroniero gave a small sob, to which Szayel rapped him on the back of the head with one knuckle and chuckled.

"Alright, alright. That's enough. You start and you'll have me going in no time."

"S-sorry..." Aaroniero quickly disengaged from the embrace, lacing and unlacing his fingers, "I got a little... emotional and stuff..."

"That's fine. Hugs are something I take in any form," he laughed again, swiping displaced hair away from his amber eyes. "Though I usually prefer them from women..."

"Umm..." The Novena gave the eccentric Octava an odd look. A long, odd look.

"Ahaha... Er, well, that did come off a little creepy, didn't it?" The Octava gestured towards the door, "Sorry. It's something of a habit with me. Now... Weren't we headed off to a meeting?"

"... Yeah."

"Well... Onwards?"

"Yeah, let's go..."

* * *

Author's Notes: Please read and review, especially if you spot an issue! I proofread these, but nobody's perfect!

Aww... The nasty are nice and the nice are... well, the "nicer" characters haven't shown themselves just yet. Poor awkward Aaroniero. Who else would hug this one? No takers? Eh?

Also, voices of double-heads work like this: The top head with the deep voice talks **like this**. And the bottom, squeaky head talks _like this_. When they speak at the same time it looks **_like this_**.

And when it's Aaroniero using Kaien's face... The dialogue is normal!

Also also: I accept suggestions more chapters! Ask me to do one with any character you wish, and I'll do what I can! I am your humble servant!

Aaroniero: **If you give me hugs**... _I will give you a cheesecake!_


	2. Cats and Competition

Randomness of the Nice-overse!

* * *

Chapter 2:

Cats and Competition

* * *

Verona and Lumina were having a bit of a spat.

This was obvious to even an unrelated bystander. All it took was a short notice of the sheer distance between the two that evening. They weren't even occupying the same couch!

Lumina was scowling at the broadcast, he oddly thin arms crossed over her paunchy gut. Every so often she would shoot a truly venomous glare from her dark doll-like eyes in Verona's direction.

Verona was pretending not to notice across the common space. He had his rounded head bowed towards the screen of a small game console he was fiddling with. The muffled sounds of electronic blips and shouts carried up from it, the only sound in the quiet room.

With her nearly non-existent nose turned up, Lumina bitterly snatched up a remote control. A series of flurried taps. The decibels coming from the broadcast screen increased to a level which drowned out Verona's game noises.

"Oh, boy..." the third party in the room muttered. He wasn't sure what Lumina and Verona, two of the Octava's Fracciónes, were doing in the commons of the Sexta's Palace, but then again... the confrontation was anything but normal.

"Hmm~?" The feline on the Sexta Fracción's lap purred and looked up, tapping the bottom of the book he held with the blunted ends of the horn-like mask fragments curling up from behind her ears, "What's wrong, Shawlong? Am I clawing you?"

"No, no..." The tall thin man cast a wary glance to each side, one for the pouting Verona and the other for the skulking Lumina, "Well, actually, yes. You are kneading me a bit hard."

"Like this..?" The kitty grinned devilishly. Shawlong winced as she pressed her paws against his thighs even harder, her retractable claws sinking right through the fabric of his uniform.

"Yes, exactly," he strained, one eyebrow arching up as he tried to focus on what he was reading. The Arrancar cat snickered and arched her silky tan back. The result made her snicker ever more.

Shawlong blinked and swiftly averted his whole face from the cat's rump.

"Shanni, this makes it very difficult to read..."

"Hee hee..."

"You know, as a former oblivious plain human," Shawlong smirked as he pushed her furry butt back down. "I find all of this cheekiness much less 'cute' now that I can understand what you're saying."

"What's this?" The cat's rear end was replaced with her front (for which Shawlong was immensely grateful), "I cannot believe you do not find me cute."

"Believe it." Shawlong ran one hand delicately down little Shanni's neck, "You're a pretty creature... But you are also _extremely_ obnoxious."

"Aww... Thanks, my hairless monkey friend!" She pushed he head forward, nuzzling the Soldado roughly on the chin.

"Mmf..." Readjusting himself in his seat he removed several kitty hairs from his mouth, wrinkling his nose and brow slightly in disgust, "I'm hardly hairless, Shanni..."

"You are compared to me," she retorted. "Now scratch my back!"

It was at that time that the silent battle between the two mutant Octava Fracciónes escalated.

Swinging her feet for momentum, Lumina wriggled off the end of the couch she was occupying and made for one of the walls. She obviously knew something that a non-Arrancar would not, for when she placed her oddly long fingers on a faintly marked square panel it opened into a door. Frosty wisps of visible air floated out and her searching paws rattled some clinking bottles within.

Shawlong took note. He also took note of Verona's sketchy glare in her direction.

"Ah... Lumina," he flinched away from the mean look the male round Arrancar was attempting to shoot through him. "Would you get me one too, please?" He smiled, albeit a bit more strained of a smile than usual, but benevolent nonetheless. Two of his fingers ruffled up two spikes of hairs on Shanni's back, "I would myself, but... Shanni is not in a cooperative mood."

"Laps is _nice_..." the cat giggled, not perturbed by the stand-off in the least.

"Hmmph..!"

Lumina didn't sound too pleased, but obliged the Sexta Soldado. She retrieved three sodas of a deep reddish-brown hue from the stealth fridge and waddled to Shawlong's side to hand him one.

Hesitating with two slim fingers on the cap, he watched the tense happenings between the two little Fracciónes with one dark grey eye narrowed. Lumina stalked to the sofa where Verona continued to plug away at his game. Wordlessly, she slung te second soda vaguely at him. It fell on its side on the cushion farthest from him, but Lumina didn't seem to give much of a damn. She turned on her heel and stomped back to her spot on Shawlong's couch.

"Hmmm..." The Sexta Fracción shook his head slightly as he popped the cap off his drink. Shanni peered up at him but said nothing, choosing instead to snuggle into a smaller ball on his lap.

_This is getting weirder than I can stand..._

A silent witness, Shawlong sipped at his soda and pretended to continue scanning the contents of his novel.

First, Lumina made a move. After she pried the cap from her bottle of cola with her stubby teeth, she turned her head and spat the tiny bit of metal across the room. Verona's head twitched as it bounced off the back, and his stormy expression intensified. The mashings of the game's buttons came down hard and merciless, and Shawlong imagined that perhaps he was silently replacing each of the controls as miniature versions of Lumina's head.

Not five minutes later, Verona struck back. A sly grin stretched completely across his squat round head.

"Hey, hey."

Lumina did not respond at first, gnashing her teeth angrily on the rim of the bottle at the sound of her "foe's" voice.

"Hey," he tried again. "I beat you again, just now."

Lumina's head whipped around, her expression pure disgust. She jammed her hands down into the crease between the last cushion and the arm of the sofa and retrieved a game console that was an exact copy of Verona's. Well, minus the color. Hers was a coral pink as opposed to grey and black.

_So that's what that lump was... _Shawlong thought, taking another sip of the soda. _Mental note: Need to remind the others that that is not the place to be storing their damn toys..._

"Hmmph!" The game turned on with a clinging chime, then the music to the game played in discord with Verona's, "Stupid-head bastard... Keep beating me..."

"Alright, you two." Shawlong set his soda down on the end table along with his book, his gaunt face now drawn into the no-nonsense expression that was known to curb even the goofiest of pranks by more childish Soldados, "This has gone on far enough. What is going on between you?"

The two shuffled. Shanni's eyes opened but she remained quietly in a ball of cute.

"She did it first..."

"No, it was you. You did first bad thing, big liar!"

"Shush!" Shawlong turned severely to the little girl, "One at a time. Verona, what did she do?"

"Beat me bad," he sniffled. "I needed catch up, but she kept beating me..."

"Beating you?" Shawlong blinked, sitting up a little straighter out of surprise. Shanni's eyes widened and she stood briefly, recurling herself into the divot between his legs, "...What do you mean by that?"

"We play game..." Lumina cut in.

"Fun fun game..."

"...On our gamey things."

"With birds."

"Angry ones."

"Fly 'em into buildings and smash up bad piggies."

Shawlong was as quiet as death for a moment. Shanni peered up at her living seat and smiled sweetly in his face of complete exasperation.

"...This is all about that _Angry Birds game_?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yep."

"... Lumina."

"Y-yeah?"

"There's not anything alcoholic in that fridge, is there?" He lounged back into the cushions further, "Because this little... ugh. The situation calls for one."

"Heh!" Shanni purred and set her head down on Shawlong's crooked elbow.


	3. The Two Who Were Abandoned

Chapter 3:

* * *

Serious Title: The Two Who Were Abandoned

Not-So-Serious Title: Tee-Tee! Double "T"s!

* * *

"Whew..."

Usually, Chizuru was only after the girls with the big knockers, but today's heat wave must have triggered a short circuit in her brain waves. Or something like that. For whatever reason Tatsuki had found that she had trouble getting away from the raging lesbian.

It had been tolerable in class, but the minute football practice was over... Gah, she couldn't take the innuendo any longer!

Currently the young girl was hiding out around the corner of a seafood merchant's, hoping that Chizuru wouldn't think that she was down here. Tatsuki didn't live on this end of the street-_-_that's what made her escape plan so cunningly brilliant. She would slip up the alley, come the long way around on the parallel street, then jump a fence or two to get in the back door.

Peeking out inch by inch, Tatsuki spotted Chizuru's reddish hair bobbing down the street in the opposite direction. The expectable direction. The girl smirked and stood up from her crouch, slapping bits of road debris from her long socks. It was time to begin Operation Get-The-F#%&-Home-And-Away-From-That-Grope-Happy-Lesbian.

She hardly noticed the dank, sketchy, general creepy nature of the alley at dusk. Her lack of fear would have been strange were she not the second strongest female martial artist in the region (of her age group, but that hardly made a difference. She may well have been the second strongest period of the karate-skilled).

However, her vigil was immediately up and her defenses raised as she got a bad feeling, like a hot sinking that started in her chest and spread out all around her. She paused, one foot on a creaking metal staircase leading out to the street behind the confining buildings. Was this even an_ evil _feeling, or just a bit _uncomfortable_? It felt... humid, whatever it was. She felt slightly short of breath. The air seemed two or three degrees warmer. And it all seemed to be coming from in front of and slightly above her.

Scowling, Tatsuki stood tall and climbed the stairs, where the weird presence seemed to be coming from. She blinked as she scanned the platform at the top and the sidewalk beyond. Nothing there. Well, an old codger walking his poofy little dog ambled by, giving the odd sensation no attention but huffing a bit as if wearied by it. Tatsuki stopped walking on the rattling steel grate, concentrating again on where the source of the heated aura was coming from more closely.

Now it was behind her, still up in the air. Turning on one heel, the high schooler was confronted with a closed-up store front, the interior shaded and dull. Slowly she turned her gaze upwards and resisted the urge to gasp in surprise. That would be such a girly move... and dumb, too.

It was one of those stores that had a little pavilion roof sticking out over the display windows, complete with clay tiles and wood stained to look older and more traditional. That wasn't what shocked the girl-_-_the white-clothed man sitting slumped on top of it was.

A real creepy-looking dude. He couldn't be a day over twenty-one, yet he had an eyepatch. He was wearing a longcoat of pure white except for a black trim, just as black as the rectangular snaps holding it closed. His boots and gloves were black, his sleeves partially rolled up. And he had a tattoo that was simultaneously the strangest and most boring tattoo in existence; it was just one turquoise bar running down his cheek. Like the ink artist had forgotten what to do next.

And the man had a sword.

Tatsuki took a step back, cringing as the metal grate shook against the concrete of the sidewalk. He hadn't looked up. She squinted, noticing yet another whacked-out facial feature/accessory that made her question the creeper's sanity.

It looked to her like a headband. But it was almost like it was made of bone... and it had a few _teeth_ on it...

The man let out a heaving sigh, his whole body seeming to shudder. _Weird_, Tatsuki thought. _It isn't cold at all, weirdo. And he's even wearing a coat!_

"Damn you, Nnoitora..." The man was grumbling under his breath. "Damn, Nnoitora... Why..?"

Tatsuki hadn't the faintest idea who or what a "Nnoitora" was, just as she had no clue who (or what) the stranger was. But she was going to find out soon enough.

_This guy is not normal_, she stated inwardly as she psyched herself up. One fist clenched and held itself ready, _Normal people don't sit on roofs changing the temperature!_

"Hey!"

The man still didn't look up, as if he were dismissing her voice as background noise. He was toying with something small and white in his left hand, focusing all his attention on it.

"Hey, I'm _talking_ to you!" she tried again, taking a few steps back onto the solidity of the sidewalk. This time, the man did pay her some mind; his head jerked upright as if he had been woken from dozing.

What he saw was Tatsuki, in the midst of a flying leap. He sat up in alarm and watched as she grabbed a firm hold of the shop's sign. Swinging upwards into a flip, she cleared the remaining four feet with ease and landed on her feet in a fighting stance, right beside the white-clothed stranger.

"Oh...er, you can... see me." The man half-stood, one hand wavering dangerously close to the hilt of his sword, "... Are you a Soul Reaper?"

"Hey, _I'm_ the one asking the questions here!" Tatsuki kept her eyes glaring straight into the man's, making sure the hand reaching for the sword was also in her field of vision, "Who are you, _what_ are you, what's a Soul Reaper, and _why_ are you sitting on this roof with a weird aura around you?!"

"H-hey, easy little girl..." The man took a step back, bringing the hand that had been nearing his weapon up in a disarming gesture, "No need to be so... aggressive."

_Did he just call me "little girl"?!_

"HYAAT!"

It was a perfectly executed roundhouse, aimed high at his face. For a moment the mystery man's brown eyes widened, too stunned to do anything before the teen's foot smacked him one on the jaw and throat.

"Oof!" He fell on his backside, lashing out with both arms to keep from toppling right off the edge of the roof. Once he was stable, one hand wandered up and felt the tender area the strike had left on his chin, "Ow... That... actually_ hurt_."

"Good!" Tatsuki stepped back nimbly for some distance, her hands raise to emphasize the threat of a second wallop coming. She bounced slightly on the leg she had kicked him with, which drew his attention far more than she would have thought normal.

"Your leg..." He stood back up, the only damage he'd suffered superficial, "It's... You're not hurt at all by that?"

"Why would I be the one who got hurt? Sit back down and answer my questions or I'll give you another one!"

"But, my hierro should have..." He seemed to lock up, word-wise, and stood back a bit. He blinked rapidly towards his boot-clad feet, then noticed the white object that was still clutched in his hand. He stuffed it in one of his coat's pockets before Tatsuki could discern what it was, "You... You must be a powerful fighter. My name's Tesla Lindocruz." He extended one hand, stooping slightly to accommodate the small Japanese girl from his obviously European height, "What's yours?"

"What's all this?" Tatsuki gave the offered hand a funny look, rejecting it. Tesla half drew it back, his face wide and awkward in every feature, stunned by the abrupt snubbing.

"You asked who I was, and I told you." He transferred the hand to his hip, right over the pocket where he'd stashed the white thing, "I'm in the dark about you too. It's only fair that you introduce yourself to me also."

"I also asked you_ what _you were, and what you were doing here!" Tatsuki growled, "So you're not done! When you spill all that, then maybe I'll tell you who I am. _Maybe_."

"You can't tell what I... Ah. You aren't a Soul Reaper, then." This Tesla seemed to relax a bit, sitting back down and placing his hands reassuringly on his knees, away from the sword strapped across his back, "Hmm... Well, there's no harm in telling you about Arrancar, I guess."

"Arrancar?" Tatsuki frowned, "Sheesh, just tell me if you're alive or dead, already."

"Uh...Oh, okay..." Tesla appeared stunned once again by the demanding teen's bluntness, "In that case, I'm dead. All Arrancar are dead people. We're... just a kind of dead soul."

"So that means you're a ghost or spirit or one of those thingies?"

"Yeah, and you're alive...right?"

"You can't tell?"

"Not really. Living people have spirit energy too, so... It's hard to tell."

Tatsuki shuffled and rebalanced herself on her planted feet. Standing here like this, ready to fight, was starting to get awkward when her "opponent" was just calmly sitting there with no semblance of readiness at all. It was almost as if he wasn't worried about her clocking him anymore...

_Come to think of it... That roundhouse kick should have at least smashed a few teeth out... Holy crap, this guy is..._

"So... Yeah..." The teenager gave up, sitting down a few feet away from the Arrancar but still keeping a slightly guarded position, "I'm Tatsuki. Tatsuki Arisawa."

The man gave her another of his startled looks, finding the behavior of the ordinary human quite a bit more unpredictable than he would have foreseen. Settling down with a soft laugh under his breath, he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Well, er... Nice to meet you, Tatsuki Arisawa. But." He paused, confusion coming back to his face, "I don't understand. I haven't told you what I'm doing here yet."

"Well, what are you doing here?" Tatsuki was not letting Tesla get away with that slip so easily. But the Arrancar did not seem to mind, or at least his benign smile lent her that thought, "Aren't dead people not supposed to be here where the living are?"

"Well, ah, er..." Tesla squirmed a bit, scratching his wrists with the opposing hands, "Arrancar... we're supposed to get permissions from our Esp_-_... our bosses first, but... I wanted to go somewhere where none of them would walk in on me..."

"Why?" Tatsuki leaned back, her feminine nose wrinkling up in suspicion of something nasty being afoot, "You're not here to do anything _dirty_, are you..?!"

"What? Ahah..! No, no, nothing like that." Tesla's laugh was high and slightly crackly, but musical regardless of the rusty squeak. It sounded as if he hadn't practiced laughter in a good while, or had been set back by the opposite expression-_-_tears. Which of those was the case Tatsuki did not choose to investigate, "I've just... had a bad couple of weeks and... Well, it's nothing I should tell a non-Arrancar."

"And why not?" Tatsuki leaned in, smirking, "You're already in a heap of trouble for sneaking to the Living World, right? Man, if I knew somewhere to go to where I could tell the rest of you Arrancar fellas what you've done..."

"Enh... Alright, " Tesla said with a grimace that was half smile. "I guess there's no harm in it... You don't even know what a Soul Reaper is, so... yeah..."

"So what is a Soul Reaper?" Tatsuki scooted to face the Arrancar, her legs crossed Indian style, "Another bunch of dead guys?"

"Y-yeah... But they wear black. They're bad news for me, probably you too if they found us together." Tesla shrugged, a slight frown crossing his features, "They don't like... competition when it comes to spiritual powers."

Tatsuki was going to ask him what he meant by "spiritual powers", but she held her tongue. A second or two glided by, during which Tesla stretched out his legs and unslung the sword from his back. He laid it down between them, and her eye was drawn immediately to a circular abnormality in the blade's length, close to the hilt and arching handguard. There was a hole in the center of it. The teen chose not to ask about that; she was already so behind when it came to the ways of dead people that throwing more complicated information into the discussion would only mess her up further. And she noticed that Tesla was about to speak again, so she decided to stay quiet for now.

"Well, yeah..." The Arrancar rubbed the back of his neck, "I wanted to get away from the place where we Arrancar live because it's in a bit of... trouble at the moment..."

"Trouble?" Tatsuki tried not to interrupt, but talking to a dead guy had piqued her curiosity. Especially since all the terminology was new: "Soul Reapers"... "Arrancar"... not a single peep about what she'd already been taught about spirits and yokai and demons and the like. It figured. Mythology was bound to be at least mostly wrong... Or misinterpreted.

"We had a sort of mutiny."

"Mutiny? Of ghosts?"

"A few of the Arrancar, er, 'bosses' I guess you'd call them," Tesla explained. "We have ten. Three of them defected, including my Master..."

"Oh..." Tatsuki noted the crestfallen look that had taken hold of the Arrancar's youthful eyes, exactly the same as the one she'd discovered him with, "I'm sorry about that."

"Thank you..."

"So... With three less boss people, how are you in trouble?" The teenaged girl found herself leaning in ever more, immersed in the news of the dead. That was kind of unexpected, even to herself. She had always been a bit of a skeptic, "Can you guys not just pick three new ones?"

"We did. We gave the ones that used to hold those positions their jobs back." Tesla seemed to get it together more. He reached up to his eyepatch, adjusting how it sat on the orbit of his eye, "But then there's the three that defected. They went over to another realm and..." He locked up again, seeming to draw the line there of what this random human needed to know.

"And what? What'd they do?"

"They took over the Soul Reapers' place and now have an army of them that will fight for them."

"Oh." Tatsuki leaned back to her original position, "That doesn't sound good."

"No, it's not," Tesla chuckled dryly. "The Soul Reapers were pretty much our sworn enemies before this, but now... There's going to be a war."

"So... Ghosts have wars?"

"Yeah."

"Huh..." Tatsuki swung her feet as they dangled off the side of the roof, "Any chance it'll involve us boring living people?"

"Most likely. The traitor Aizen was the leader. He never really put much value on the living. If he wins this war... Very, very bad things will happen to a lot of people."

"Living and dead?"

"Yeah. I don't think it matters to Aizen and his two allies..." The Arrancar sighed deeply, "I just wouldn't have taken Master Nnoitora for someone who would go along with him. He was always such a peaceful man."

"Oh, so that's what you were saying when I came up."

"Er... You heard that..?" The Arrancar flinched. His hand was buried in his pocket once again, "I didn't think anyone would hear me..."

"What about that thing you were holding?"

Sighing, Tesla drew the object back out, gazing down at it with a mix of fondness and sadness. At first Tatsuki felt a faint blush pass over her cheeks, the small size of the white fabric giving her the false impression that the man had been hanging onto a pair of panties. But no, it wasn't panties now that the teen had a closer look. It was an eyepatch. But not like the one Tesla was wearing; this patch was white and of the broader variety which not only concealed an injured or missing eye but a wide swath of the skin around it as well.

"It was one of his... he left it behind when he left." As quick as he had brought it out he returned it to its place in his pocket.

"Umm... You _really_ liked him, didn't you?" Tatsuki couldn't help but bug her eyes. She had a vague thought about how Chizuru was always chasing after poor Orihime...

As if Tesla had read her thoughts, he raised both hands and waved them in an emphatic "no" gesture.

"No, no, no, no," he said. "We were friends. But not_ that_ kind of friends."

"Ah. Sorry." Tatsuki could not help but smirk. Tesla could not help but face-palm himself for walking right into that sort of set-up, "So... what happens now with all the dead guy conflict and stuff..?"

"We Arrancar are going to wait." Tesla crossed his arms and leaned back against the walls of the storefront, "At least, until the traitors and the Soul Society make a move. Until then we don't fully know what we're up against..."

"Oh..."

Tatsuki scratched a spot on her knee, turned away from Tesla, and watched several pigeons bobbing their heads up and down as they sat on a power line. Tesla was doing much of the same, only he was absently staring at a child kicking a football slowly down an adjacent street.

"So, uh..." Tatsuki turned back to the Arrancar, "You wanna go get something to eat?"

"Uhh..." Tesla shrugged to dislodge some uncertainty, having never had any Japanese food before, "... Okay."

* * *

Author's Notes:

HUAH for both Tatsuki and Tesla, the two characters who were abandoned. Tesla's been having an angsty week it seems... Dang. I made him an Arrancar Izuru Kira, didn't I? And Tatsuki! She didn't change at all, did she?

...O_O Oh, snap. Not only is Aizen largely unchanged in the nice-o-verse... So is Tatsuki..! Well, that blows my "only Aizen stayed completely the same" thingie in the introduction... Maybe that means Tatsuki would end up being more important in this reality..?

'Bout time! Tatsuki's an awesome character! She and Tesla both deserve way more attention!

To recap: _TATSUKI GOT HIT BY A CAR. SHE BROKE HER ARM. AND **AFTER** THAT, SHE ALMOST WON THE KARATE COMPETITION. **WITH A BROKEN ARM**. TATSUKI=MOST BADASS FEMALE CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SERIES. SCRATCH THAT: **TATSUKI=MOST BADASS CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SERIES.**_


End file.
